The Distance

SEPTEMBER - JASON, 2

I decided not to talk to my mom. I didn't see the point in it. She wasn't going to change her point of view and I wasn't suddenly going to become a straight boy. I thought I would just pretend that St. Luke's was doing exactly what she hoped it would; that I was transforming back into the son she always wanted. She asked if I had made new friends. I said yes, but I didn't say anything further. I didn't think she would want to know my new friends had piercings, heavy eyeliner, unconventional hair, and wardrobes that challenged gender norms.

Coach Yan didn't enforce morning cross country practice like my old team. It was probably why guys on my new team weren't as fast. I enjoyed the reprieve. I started hanging with Paige and Ash in their morning hangout spot, the slick pleather sofas outside of the art classrooms. They had a couple of other friends, but none I clicked with in the same way.

"I got your rumor started," said Paige, not trying to hide her excitement. "I told Sherry who does the school newspaper. She's the biggest blabbermouth. I think because nothing interesting happens in her own life- so she just tells other people's stories."

I shifted my attention from her face to Ash's. He wore a mischievous grin.

"What's the rumor?" I asked.

"That you punched a teacher. That's why you had to leave your old school."

"And... That's cool?"

"One hundred percent," said Ash. "It's perfect. It shows that you resist authority and that no one should mess with you. Plus, probably some of the teachers will believe it too. It might help your grades. Fear is a powerful motivator."

"Did you say why I punched him... or her?"

Paige shook her head.

"Him. But Sherry didn't seem to care about the why," said Paige. "She just said wow and asked if you were single. She's not a very good journalist."

"Future gossip columnist, maybe," said Ash.

"Well, thanks," I said. "Hopefully that will kill the janitor rumor."

Ash shook his head with knowing irritation.

"Unfortunately, it'll never completely go away," he said. "There are boys at this school who will hold onto that rumor- specifically because they want it to be true. Closeted homophobic boys who will come out in college or be closeted their entire lives. Take it from me. They've been making up crap about me since the seventh grade."

I recalled the graffiti I saw on the bus my first day of school: "For a good time, call Ashley T."

"Are you Ashley T?" I blurted.

Ash grimaced.

"Ah, so my reputation precedes me," he said. "Though I prefer if you'd just call me Ash."

"Of course," I said. "Sorry."

"In fairness, he is a good time," said Paige. She kissed her friend on his temple and left behind a stamp of black lipstick. Ash smiled weakly, but it was clear he still held onto some hurt.

"Speaking of," said Ash. "We're going to hang and do witch shit in the cemetery tonight. Do you want to come?"

It was the most jarring invitation I had ever received. Goosebumps rose on the back of my neck. It sounded like the beginning of a horror movie. I imagined accidentally raising a zombie and my intestines being torn from my torso. On the other hand, it sounded exactly like the sort of activity my mother would hate. That fact alone tipped the scales in Ash and Paige's favor.

"Okay," I said. "But I don't know how helpful I'll be on the witch front."

"It's okay, we don't know what we're doing either," said Paige. "Ash just likes an excuse to pretend to be Fairuza Balk from The Craft."